


Of Wreckage and Wasteland

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Lost
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posted for archival purposes.He's always been good at survival.
Relationships: Sayid Jarrah/Charlie Pace
Kudos: 6





	Of Wreckage and Wasteland

In the desert, the sun chases the moon.

Light pushing aside shadow, covering the land in dry heat, so thick it rises, radiating off the earth until the cold of the night is forgotten.

In the jungle, the moon chases the sun.

Shadow swallowing light, covering the land in damp cold, so thick it suffocates, filling his lungs until he's half afraid he might drown.

Things move in the night, shifting, blending into the background until only the feeling of being watched reminds him they're there. He wonders if they're hunting him, stalking silently behind and waiting, always waiting. He misses the desert.

"We should get back," Charlie says, voicing Sayid's own thoughts and Sayid nods.

He feels as though the entire trek has been for nothing, a waste of time and energy and he only hopes one of the others has found something. They've practically mapped the entire island, but they have yet to pinpoint the source of the transmission. Yet to find anything that might help them get home.

Hope wanes a little more each day, fading, becoming nothing more than white noise. He's learning to block it out, push it aside and concentrate on survival. He's well trained for survival –-he survived scud missiles and air force strikes, he can survive this.

But the jungle is unyielding, blocking their steps as effectively as a brick wall and he curses as a branch snakes across his neck, tearing into flesh until tiny drops of blood bead against his skin. His entire body is covered in scrapes and cuts, wounds earned in an entirely different kind of battle. He wonders if he'll treasure these as he treasures the ones faded with time.

"I don't think this is the right way," Charlie comments beside him, his breath coming in laboured pants and Sayid slows his pace.

"You're right. There's no frame of reference, we need to get higher," Sayid replies, squinting into the night for something he knows he'll never find.

"Which way is higher?" Charlie asks, pressing himself into Sayid's space and Sayid knows he's frowning, even without seeing.

Above him there's a canopy of leaves, dense and thick, the sky bleeding into the earth, becoming one single entity. In the desert, the sky is clear, lit by thousands of tiny balls of fire; stars marking his path like breadcrumbs. Here there is nothing but emptiness.

"How long ago did we pass that ridge?" he asks, counting back the hours since they set out.

"About an hour ago?" Charlie answers, uncertain.

He'd seen it in the distance, hovering on the edge of his vision just as the sun slipped beneath the far hills. He remembers it clearly, the soft orange of the sunset splayed across the rocky escarpment.

"We can reach it. They'll have a fire on the beach, we can follow the light," he explains, setting off without another word, leaving Charlie to follow.

Charlie lets him lead without argument, always a mere step behind, so close they'd collide if Sayid stopped suddenly. He doesn't say anything, though. In truth he rather likes Charlie's presence, the knowledge that he isn't alone. It makes the island seem smaller, less hostile. He knows it's only an illusion, wishful thinking, but it doesn't stop him from slowing his steps, keeping Charlie as close as he can. He tells himself it's just so that they don't stumble on the rocky ground.

The land shifts around them, never changing and he wonders if they're walking in circles. Wonders if the others have returned, if they've found anything. If they'll come looking. He shakes his head at the thought, pressing on, further into the night. They pass through clearings, cross streams and climb over rocks blocking their path. Seconds bleed into minutes, minutes into hours and when Sayid finally stops, they're no closer to their destination than they were when they first set out.

"Maybe we should stop, wait for morning," Charlie suggests, winded from their hike and trying very hard to keep it together.

Sayid considers arguing, insisting that they press on, but he knows Charlie's right. It doesn't stop him from pushing forward, moving through the underbrush until they reach another, or possibly the same, clearing. He can just make out the sky now, endless stretches of midnight blue, interspersed by tiny dots of light. He feels further away from the heavens than he ever has.

"See if you can find some dry wood, we can at least start a fire," Sayid suggests, clearing out a space in the centre of the clearing to use as their camp.

By the time they're finished, there's a line of sweat running down Sayid's back. His shirt sticks to his skin, pulling across his flesh every time he moves, so he pulls it over his head, tossing it absently onto the ground. He follows a moment behind, the ground hard and damp beneath him.

He feels like they're hiding in plain sight. Tucked away in the open for anyone to find and he briefly reconsiders lighting a fire. But Charlie's shivering beside him, staring vacantly into the surrounding jungle, so Sayid fishes out a match.

He waits for Charlie to settle beside him, shoulders pressed together before lighting the match, watching sulphur dissolve into flame, the light casting an eerie glow into the space between them. The wood is damp, moist and heavy like the air around them and he burns his finger before finally getting it lit. It's worth it, though, fire slowly spreading, burning bright until the light chases the shadows back to the edge of the clearing.

"You think they'll come looking for us?" Charlie asks, staring into the flames and Sayid's certain he's twitching.

"Probably not, but we'll be fine as soon as the sun rises," Sayid answers, the brute honesty of his words piercing through the air.

They're replaced a moment later by silence, still and almost tranquil until the perpetual noise of the forest starts again. He can't even begin to distinguish between the sounds, all of them blending together until he wants to cover his ears.

"We should try and get some rest," he says, his own voice a welcome break to the surrounding sounds of natural chaos.

He senses more than sees Charlie's nod. Feels Charlie shift, leaning back against a small outcrops of rocks and Sayid pauses before joining him. He's certain neither of them will sleep, their bodies hyper aware as the jungle breathes around them; a living entity, shifting, stretching, whispering. In the desert, everything is dead.

Now that he's not moving, he can feel the chill, settling around him until he's blanketed in cold. He reaches for his shirt, sliding it back over his head before inching closer to Charlie's warmth.

"Why is it so much colder here?" Charlie asks, and Sayid thinks the question might be rhetorical.

He answers anyway, "we're surrounded by mountains, the sun can't warm the valley like it can on the beach," he explains, shifting until he can slide an arm around Charlie's shoulders.

He tells himself sharing body warmth is practical, but it doesn't stop the small tremor of lust from racing through his veins. Settling in his groin until he's light headed from want. He doesn't say anything, but Charlie curls a little further into his side, so he must not mind.

"You know what I miss," Charlie says suddenly, turning until his breath caresses Sayid's cheek, "alcohol," he continues, and Sayid feels his smile.

"You're an escapist, aren't you?" Sayid asks, laughing softly at the ridiculousness of it all.

Because he likes Charlie, wants Charlie and Charlie is everything he's ever tried to avoid. It makes him wonder if the crash rewired part of his brain, or if being trapped here is starting to drive him insane.

"I wouldn't say that, but sometimes reality just isn't all it's cracked up to be," Charlie states, and Sayid's not certain if he's referring to before, or after.

Possibly both, but Sayid still finds himself nodding. He doesn't know if it's agreement or dismissal of the conversation.

"You should get some sleep, I'll stay awake," Sayid says suddenly, turning to stare at the reflection of the flames in Charlie's wide eyes.

"No offense, but sleeping, not going to happen," Charlie answers, offering a crocked smile and Sayid nods his understanding.

He's tempted to suggest other ways they can pass the time, but the words freeze on his tongue. The jungle has grown silent now, the sudden hush too quiet to bear and he wonders if it's a sign they should be running. Nothing moves in the darkness and he finds himself tensing, completely focused on his surroundings. It's the same feeling he gets moments before going into battle, the soft knowledge that today he might die. The sensation vanishes just as quick, replaced by the humming of life and darkness.

"Bloody hell, this is just creepy," Charlie says, pressing a little closer and Sayid hazards a glance down.

Shadows play across Charlie's face, making him look somehow older, wiser. Before he can rationalize that he's doing, Sayid's hand is creeping up to the back of Charlie's neck, fingers ghosting over the soft hairs there, tracing absent patterns against his skin.

"It's just because we're not used to it," Sayid says, his words soft and whispered and Charlie turns to face him.

Licks his lips once before replying. "Yeah, still, a distraction would be nice," Charlie says, swaying slightly forward and Sayid swallows at the sudden rush of moisture in his mouth.

"Yeah," he replies, blood pounding in his ears until he can no longer hear the strange sounds of the night.

He doesn't register who moved first, if he kissed Charlie or if Charlie kissed him. What he does register is that Charlie's lips are chapped, dry against his and he's certain his own are just as bad. It lasts only a moment and then Charlie's tongue is slipping into his mouth, sliding against his own.

Somewhere in the distance, the ground begins to tremble.

~*~

He's no longer capable of threading a path through the dense underbrush. Branches beat against him, punishing him for his sins and all he can do is keep running. Charlie's hand is heavy against his own, damp with perspiration and dew and Sayid tightens his grip to keep from losing the other man. He's practically pulling Charlie, rushing into unknown danger to escape the known danger behind them.

The ground no longer shakes, the earth finally still, but he keeps running. Dirt and rock blurring beneath his feet but he keeps his gaze locked on the horizon. At least, he thinks it's the horizon, it's hard to tell; muted shades of green and black blurring together until it makes him dizzy. He can see the tree line in the distance, more blackness beyond and he can't tell if it's the beach or a wall of rock. He keeps running.

Momentum carries him forward, past the last traces of the jungle and he nearly sobs with relief when sand gives way beneath his feet. Beside him Charlie sinks to his knees, doubling over and practically hyperventilating. Sayid's crouching next to him in an instant.

"Breathe, just breathe," he says, his own words broken as he struggles for oxygen.

"Trying..." Charlie manages, doubling over onto himself until his head rests against his knees.

Around them, there is nothing but echoing silence.

It doesn't make him feel any safer, and Sayid finds himself listening, straining to hear even the faintest hint of pursuit, but nothing moves. The air is warmer here; a cool breeze coming off the water that he can't see but instinctively knows is there. It looms, just on the edge of his vision like some gigantic black abyss. He can see the stars, though, faint and distance, shining above them like beacons of hope.

"I think we're on the opposite side of the island, we need to start moving," Sayid comments, tearing his gaze away from the sky and back onto Charlie's huddled form.

"I... I can't," Charlie says, his accent thick with exhaustion and Sayid nods before pulling Charlie to his feet, dragging him away from the trees and further into the open void of the beach.

He doesn't think it's any safer, but at least here his line of sight is unobstructed. It makes him feel better, anyway, and he lets Charlie sink back into the sand. He can hear the ocean now, beating against the rocks and the sound is deafening. It drowns out everything else, even his heartbeat. He takes solace in it.

Once, when he was still a child, he'd traveled to the Arabian Sea. He hadn't thought it was possible for so much water to exist in one place and he'd spent the better part of the day staring at it in awe. Now he knows better and the sight of all that water just reminds him of how far from home they truly are.

"We're safe here, right?" Charlie questions, interrupting Sayid's thoughts. His voice is soft, tinged with panic, but no longer laboured.

"Yeah, we're safe here," he answers, the lie coming easily to his lips.

"Good, good," Charlie replies, nodding like the matter is dealt with, but he still hazards a glance over his shoulder, back the way they came.

~*~

For a moment, he can't remember where he is. Harsh light fills his vision, blinding him until he's forced to close his eyes. Even then it doesn't help, red flashing across his vision, spots swimming against his eyelids and he rolls over. Onto his stomach, the gritty feel of sand covering his body. Slowly, he opens his eyes.

The night comes back to him in an instant, images dancing in front of his vision until he's forced to close his eyes for a second time. Charlie.

"Charlie?" he calls, searching the surrounding area but finding no one.

He stands on shaking legs, his muscles sore and tired, worn and spent. Footprints line the beach, zigzagging in circles before finally heading toward the water. He turns, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding upon spotting Charlie hip deep in the ocean.

Moving takes effort, but he forces himself forward, shedding his clothes, dropping them in a pile next to Charlie's before joining the other man in the water. The water's warm, stinging against fresh wounds, but refreshing in a way that's almost blissful.

"Don't do that again," he says when he reaches Charlie's side, earning a slightly glazed look and a frown.

"Do what?" Charlie asks, and Sayid does his best not to notice the transparency of Charlie's boxer-briefs.

"Leave like that," Sayid tells him, waiting for a nod before diving under, washing away the night's sweat and dirt.

The sun is hazy, hovering just over the horizon and he imagines remaining in the water long enough to watch it creep across the sky. He knows it's not possible; the longer they stay the less chance they have of making it back. Despite his urgency to get back, he has to force himself out of the water, his body protesting his return to dry land.

He slips into sand covered clothes, watching Charlie do the same out of the corner of his eye. His shirt itches, sand spilling between his shoulder blades, sticking to his still damp skin. He ignores it, sliding into his shoes and choosing a direction at random before heading out, walking across the sand and avoiding the tree line. Charlie starts talking the moment they start moving.

Walking is taxing, but every so often, their arms brush together, prickling his skin until tiny pinpoints of pleasure race through his limbs. Charlie's hasn't commented on it and Sayid doesn't know if it's because he hasn't noticed, or if he's been too busy rambling about nothing to bring it up. Sayid still doesn't know what Charlie's talking about, but he likes the sound of Charlie's voice, so he hasn't stopped him. He only finds it slightly disconcerting that it hasn't started bothering him.

The sand is soft beneath him, falling away with each press of his foot and he finds himself struggling to move forward. There was a time when he thought sand was sand, but the sand in the desert is hard and packed, firm and easy to move across. It's nothing like it is here, and he thinks man was not meant to see this place. He wonders if perhaps that's why it's trying to kill them.

"So then we cut a record deal with... Sayid? Are you even listening?" Charlie asks, and Sayid blinks before absorbing Charlie's words.

"Sorry, what?" he asks, turning to glance at Charlie out of the corner of his eye.

"I was... wait, what's that?" Charlie points into the distance at a line of smoke that's rising steadily, dissipating into the atmosphere. Sayid smiles.

"That is what we're looking for," he answers, picking up the pace and urging Charlie to keep up.

~*~

He should be disappointed. At the very least, worried. Because the groups have returned, empty handed for the second week in a row, and they're still no closer to figuring out how to get off the island than they were before. They've been here almost a month now and he knows rescue isn't likely.

He's not worried, though, and he thinks it might be because there's something comforting about the backdrop of plane wreckage. Something familiar about the sounds of shifting jungle and crashing waves.

Something right about the feel of Charlie writhing beneath him, arching into him and flexing around him. The desert is home, but Charlie's become a close second, and he's willing to live with that. Besides, he's always been good at survival.


End file.
